So the same drugs that are keeping me from all the bad side effects of being, ya know, in my own head, are killing, and I mean killing my sex drive.
I have always had a really killer sex drive. A. jokes that I am always ready, but lately… well. I’m happy curled up in sweatpants and having a deep conversation. It’s not my attraction to A. because she is sexy as fuck and handsome all the time and I love her like crazy. It’s just me.
I’m thinking about it today because I bought a pair of jeans I feel hot in. (I dig them, seriously.) I realized there is definitely a difference between feeling sexy and wanting sex. It was nice to just feel attractive in my own skin.
The problem is, I’m always weighing life with medication and life without medication. I’m panicky, paranoid and depressed without drugs, but I’m quick-witted and funny and ready to fuck anytime. With drugs? I’m much more calm. I don’t feel like my whole world is going to fall apart. I can take small steps in the right direction, etc. but I’m quieter. I’m more introverted, I don’t want sex nearly as often, and it takes me twice as long to get in right headspace to do it. I hate that part. Better than panic attacks though. (Shudder.)
In other news, I dreamed about my ex-best friend again last night. I dreamed I was apologizing to her (as usual) and telling her how much I’ve missed her. It’s true. I miss her terribly, but I know if I go back I’ll just end up being mistreated all over again. Standing up to her finally cost me our friendship, but it won back a little of my integrity. I just wish I didn’t miss her smile so much. I wish I didn’t miss the nights when we would get high on her balcony and just talk quietly for hours. I wish I didn’t miss her laugh and her blue eyes and the way she would wrap me up in her arms when I was sad. But all that didn’t happen much there towards the end. In fact, it barely ever happened at all. In fact, this is the only place where I’m willing to admit it:
I miss you. So much more than you deserve.